The dampness of the morning clung to the edges of the paddock, a heavy weight that felt far too thick for the warmth of the sun. Draconia stood at the edge of the clearing, her boots sinking slightly into the soft, muddy earth. The air was cold enough to bite at her cheeks, yet the scent of wet grass and horse manure was inescapable. Hagrid stood in the centre of the enclosure, his massive frame dwarfing the creatures that flitted around his ankles. He looked up as the students approached, his wide grin revealing teeth that seemed far too large for his face.
"Right then, everyone," Hagrid shouted, his voice booming through the open air. "Today is the day. We are meeting the Hippogriff. You must show respect, or you will feel the cost."
Draconia watched him, her hands tucked neatly into the sleeves of her robes. She felt the eyes of the other students on her, though most were looking at the ground or at the giant man. Pansy Parkinson stood beside her, whispering something about the filth of the paddock, but Draconia did not listen. She was focused on the movement in the distance. A large, feathered shape descended from the sky, landing with a heavy thud near a pile of hay. It was a magnificent creature, with the beak of an eagle and the body of a horse, its feathers shimmering with a strange, iridescent light.
"Stay calm, stay poised," Drac much of the group was murmuring.
Harry Potter was near the front, his hair a mess as always, looking entirely too focused on the creature. Draconia felt a flicker of irritation at his enthusiasm. He did not belong in a place of mud and feathers, and he certainly did not belong in a moment of such high tension. She watched as the Hippogriff, Buckbeak, snapped at the air, its talons scraping against the earth. The sound made several students jump back, but Draconia remained still.
"You have to bow, you know," Pansy said, nudding Draconia’s shoulder with a sharp elbow. "You can't just stare at it like a common beast."
"It knows its place if we know ours," Draconia replied, her voice steady despite the flutter in her chest.
Hagrid began to guide the students forward one by one. The procedure was strict, a ritual of respect that felt as old as the stone walls of the castle. Each person had to approach, bow deeply, and wait for the creature to acknowledge them before stepping closer. Harry Malfoy moved ahead of her, his blonde hair catching the light as he stepped into the creature's line of sight. He was careful, his movements controlled and precise, a perfect display of Malfoy breeding.
"Go on, Draconia," Hagrid prompted, his large hand gesturing towards the gap in the line. "Don't be shy. He likes a bit of respect."
She stepped forward, her heart hammering a rhythm against her ribs. The ground felt uneven beneath her feet, the mud clinging to her leather boots. As she approached, the Hippogriff turned its head, its dark, intelligent eyes fixing on her. It was a predatory gaze, one that seemed to weigh the very soul of the observer. She felt the urge to shrink back, to pull her robes tighter around her body, but she forced her shoulders to remain square.
"Now, give him a proper bow," Hagrid commanded.
Draconia bent her waist, her eyes fixed on the dark earth. She held the position longer than necessary, her muscles tensing as she waited for the creature to accept her. The silence of the paddock was broken only by the rustle of feathers and the distant sound of the wind. She felt a strange sensation of being watched, not just by the bird, but by the entire class. She felt the weight of their expectations, the weight of the Malfoy name that she carried like a mantle.
"Well done," Hagrid said, his voice a low rumble. "He likes you. He knows a good sort when he sees one."
She straightened up, her face a mask of calm, though her skin felt hot. She moved to the side to let the next student pass, but her gaze lingered on the boy who had gone before her. Harry Potter was standing a few paces away, his expression unreadable. He looked as though he had seen something more than just a bird; he looked as though he had seen a ghost.
"Are you alright, Draconia?" Pansy asked, her voice cutting through the tension. "You look a bit pale."
"The air is just a bit brisk," Draconia lied, smoothing the front of her robes.
The class continued, a slow procession of bows and cautious steps. The tension in the paddock grew as the creature grew more restless, its wings beating the air with a sudden, violent snap. The sound was like a whip cracking, a sharp, jarring noise that startled the group. Draconia watched as the interaction between the bird and the boy became more intense, the respect of the ritual fraying at the edges of the chaos.
"It is supposed to be a controlled environment," she heard a voice murmur from the back of the crowd.
"It is never controlled in the mud," another replied.
The moment of calm was shattered when the creature took a sudden, lurching step forward, its talons scraping the grass with a sound like grinding stone. The tension was no longer a quiet thing; it was a living, breathing force that surged through the clearing. Draconia felt the sudden shift in the atmosphere, a change in the way the light hit the feathers of the bird. She stood perfectly still, watching as the world around her seemed to litt in a different light.
She felt the sudden urge to speak, to assert herself in the face of the brewing storm. She stepped toward the front of the group, her chin lifting. She saw the way the eyes of the crowd turned toward her, a sea of faces waiting for a sign. She took a breath, the air filling her lungs with the scent of damp earth and magic.
"It is a magnificent creature, is it not?" she said, her voice projecting clearly over the murmurs of the class.
She watched the lips of the students move as they turned to her, the sudden silence that followed her words. She felt the vibration of her own words in her throat, a sense of separation as if the sound belonged to a stranger. She said her line to a crowd and hears her own voice do it, for the first time, like somebody else's.